


And Miles to go Before I Sleep

by Phoenix_Grl_1412



Series: when things change (we rise stronger than before) [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, BAMF Dorea Potter, Black Family Magic, Familiars, Family Magic, Gen, Goblins, Gringotts Wizarding Bank, Harry Potter is the Heir to the House of Black, Harry Potter is the Heir to the House of Potter, Harry Potter was Raised by Other(s), Hedwig is a Familiar, House Elves, House of Black, House of Potter, How do I tag?, I tried to go easy on the OC's, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Potter family magic, Pre-Hogwarts, Prepare to face my Headcanons, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Politics (Harry Potter), The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, alive! Dorea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-08-28 22:29:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16731837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_Grl_1412/pseuds/Phoenix_Grl_1412
Summary: Upon returning home, Dorea learns that things are even worse than she feared. But what everyone else seems to have forgotten is that she herself is something to be feared. She is a woman at war, and she won't rest until she's made things right.It's not a promise. It's a guarantee.





	1. To ask if there is some mistake

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the second installment of the When Things Change series! Firstly, I want to say thank you to everyone who read, commented, and gave kudos on the first part of the series. You all rock! Thank you for giving this story a chance and waiting patiently for this installment.
> 
> Secondly, this installment will pick up where "Where we Stood" left off and cover up to when Harry leaves for Hogwarts. The third installment is in the works, and will roughly cover first year and possibly more.
> 
> Thirdly, I'm going to be throwing a lot of my own personal headcanons at you guys. I'm sorry, I can't help it. I try to explain everything thoroughly, but if I don't, please feel free to ask for further clarification.
> 
> Fourthly, I have read some of "A Marauder's Plan" by CatsAreCool. I stopped reading when my own headcanons about the Potter and Black families, and the idea for this story, began. I have tried not to take anything directly from this story, but I was inspired by it. If you have not read it, I highly recommend it.
> 
> Lastly, the title comes from the Robert Frost poem "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening."

She arrives back in London in the dark of night, hoping to keep her arrival back in the country as quiet as possible. Her heart is heavy, but for the first time in years her mind is clear.

Dorea isn’t surprised to find Potter Manor closed to her; with no recognized regent, heir, or head of house, the Manor should have sealed itself off. Her last shred of hope that this is all some elaborate trick withers and dies.

By the end of the night, Dorea finds herself in a safehouse she has never had to use. It was a property given to her by her brother shortly into her marriage, before she’d known her husband was a good man. It is a reminder not only that she was loved, once, but of tough times that made her who she is now.

It is a muggle home, situated in a quiet area just outside of London. Though muggle originally, she had warded the tiny cottage as soon as she’d been able to. It was not luxurious by any means, but it was hidden and off the grid and that was enough for her.

It was not home, it could never be home. This place was empty; empty of warmth and softness and love. But it was shelter, and safety, and it would make do. It would serve her purposes until she had developed a firm plan of action.

She was a Slytherin through and through. She’d been sorted into Slytherin years ago, but more than that, she was a Black and she’d been _raised_ Slytherin. She would not go looking for Harry until she knew what, exactly, waited for her outside these walls. That meant research: on people, on events, on places and families. On anything that could possibly interfere with her plans. There was no room for error this time.

  

*****

  

She walks out of Gringotts feigning a calm she certainly does not feel. She wants to storm, to rage, to shout and scream, to destroy everything in her path. She wants to demand solutions to problems that should have been solved a decade ago, problems that should never have existed in the first place. She wants to threaten and maim until everything is the way it would have been without interference.

Her blood is boiling and every bone in her body is screaming for vengeance, demanding retribution for her kin who have been so thoroughly wronged. The family magic that she witnessed as a child, that she never believed she would ever have to face again, twists and winds its way around her shoulders, unseen to anyone else. It brushes gently against her skin, whispering everything that she could do. The power to move mountains, to right wrongs, to have those who have wronged her trembling on their knees before her and begging for mercy; it is all hers for the taking if she would only _call for it_.

But she doesn’t, because Dorea is smarter than that. She wields the family magics, of Black and of Potter now; it does not wield her. Throwing a tantrum would only solve her problems right now, and even then, the solutions may not last and that means it isn’t an option.

Dorea plays for the long term and she plays to win.

So she swallows her heart. She bottles her rage. She pours over all that she’d learned from the goblins, and Stoneshard in particular, and all that had been accomplished in the meeting.

She’d gone in hoping for Regency of the House of Potter and confirmation that her guardianship would supersede anyone else’s claim before she began her hunt. She’d gotten so much more. 

Because she was now Regent of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, the Potter family magic had allowed itself to fall under her command. She had not thought that the magic would respond to her at all, given that she had no Potter blood in her veins and had married into the family. It had surprised her, when she had completed the small ritual and had felt a gust of warm air across her skin. 

The Potter magic was warm and welcoming, greeting her like an old friend, or perhaps more accurately, like someone who had been loyal to the family, and the family only, for decades. But despite its warm welcome, the magic made it clear that it was not meant for Dorea. It did not cling to her skin, nor did its tendrils wrap around her to offer comfort and strength. It existed, just out of reach, and Dorea knew it would respond if she called, but it would not come to her on its own. 

With the Regency, her plans could begin. First was unsealing Potter Manor, which had sat empty since Fleamont and Euphemia had passed on. It was the safest Potter property and the wards were unrivalled. It would be a safe place to live, for her and for Harry, especially if their presence there could be kept secret for as long as possible. For a fee, the goblins had been willing to assess the condition of the home and arrange for the needed repairs. 

Stoneshard, a Senior Account Manager and the goblin that handled the Potter account, had brought up the next issue. The Last Will and Testament of Lord James Fleamont Potter and Lady Lily Evans Potter. She’d grilled him mercilessly on why, exactly, the Will had not been executed. She’d had theories, of course, but the truth was much more important. 

The only ones who had the authority to seal a Will were the Head of the individual’s house, if the individual was not the Head, or the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. The Head of House could do it for any reason they so choose, though it was rarely done except for extreme circumstances as they would have to defend their actions to a tribunal. The Chief Warlock, on the other hand, could do it if he felt that there was sufficient need. Such an action did not require approval by the Wizengamot, nor did his actions require explanation. All he had to do was send notification to Gringotts and the matter was done. 

Given that James was the Head of House Potter, that left the Chief Warlock, Albus bloody Dumbledore. 

She’d known of his legendary defeat of Gellert Grindelwald and his stand against the Dark Lord in later years. She knew he was supposedly the most powerful wizard since Merlin. Some believed that he was Merlin reincarnated, but not Dorea. She had been respectful to him, of course, but she did not worship the ground he walked on nor did she despise him for his stance in politics. Dorea was raised to be suspicious, to question everything and anything, especially those with power. She knew he was a man, plain and simple, and she did not let herself forget that all men are imperfect. Dumbledore was no exception. 

To find out that he was the only one who could have sealed the Will had angered her, of course, but it wasn’t impossible to unseal the Will. If the Heir requested that the Will be unsealed and executed, Gringotts could begin doing so immediately. It did not acquire approval by any authority figure, though a notice would go out to the Wizengamot that a Will had been unsealed and would be executed in the coming days. 

What had truly brought out her rage was the fact that the Chief Warlock had taken charge of the Potter account as the de facto Regent by proxy. No one had been aware that anyone had been appointed to the Regency, at least no one who was able to step forward, which left the House of Potter in stasis until the Heir came of age. It was within the Chief Warlock’s authority to claim seats on the Wizengamot, and therefore the voting rights, of such Houses. The situation wasn’t uncommon, and the seat returned to the family once the Heir claimed his title. 

But James and Lily had made a Will. They’d named a primary Regent, and several secondary choices in case something should happen. Dorea herself was on that list. So that left the question of why. Why had he done it? Why had Albus Dumbledore sealed the Will? 

She didn’t like the answers she came up with. It meant that either Dumbledore played a part in her family’s death or was covering up for someone who had. And no matter which option it was, he would pay for his crimes. Dorea would make sure of that. 

Stoneshard had also informed her that it was Dumbledore who provided assurances that Harry Potter was happy and healthy. Dorea was certain now that Dumbledore knew where Harry was, and that maybe he’d placed him there himself. Assuming that Dumbledore was looking after Harry and checking in on him, at least enough to know he was happy and healthy, then maybe Harry was okay. But she would not take his word for it, especially after what she had learned today. She would find Harry for herself. 

Once she was assured that Harry was healthy, she would bring him to Gringotts to unseal his parents’ Will. Once that was done, she would know for certain who the Potters’ Secret Keeper had been. She would know who had betrayed them and she would know for certain who she needed to destroy. 

Because she didn’t know, not for certain. She knew it was one of the so-called Marauders, because who else would James trust? Stoneshard himself didn’t know who the Secret Keeper was, but he did know that it was listed in the Potters’ Will. Having it unsealed would reveal the truth of the matter. 

She knew that everyone believed it was Sirius Black, believed enough that he’d been put in Azkaban for it. But she had known him, had watched him grow alongside James, and didn’t believe that he would betray them. Sirius had loved James just as much as James had loved Sirius. They were brothers in all but blood, and even then, they had shared some blood thanks to Dorea. She would believe that James would make Sirius their Secret Keeper, but she didn’t believe that Sirius was a Death Eater who sold them out to the Dark Lord. 

But she’d also been given proof of his innocence, and for that Dorea was both grateful and angered. 

The last Lord Black had been her cousin, Arcturus Black, and Sirius’ grandfather. He’d become Lord shortly after her marriage to Charlus, and she’d only spoken to him twice since he’d become Lord. Once, when he asked her if her health had worsened following her marriage. And then again, years later, she had asked him for a favor. He’d granted it, and Dorea would forever be grateful that he was a kinder Lord than his father. 

Arcturus had passed on, after her James had been killed but before her return. Upon his passing, the House had been left in stasis. He’d named an Heir, of course, but had not made the identity of the Heir public knowledge. In decades past, when Heir assassination was much more common and much less frowned upon, it was customary for Lords to protect the identity of their Heirs. Doing so had never been outlawed, but few took advantage of it nowadays. But it had been several years by now, and almost all of the potential candidates for Heir had come of age, but none had claimed the Lordship or control of the House of Black. 

According to Stoneshard, who was also in charge of the Black account, several related parties had tried to claim the Regency, but magic had not accepted any of them. He’d urged her to try to claim the Regency, and she figured it couldn’t hurt. She had not counted on support from the House of Black in her plans, but she would not allow the House to be used against her. 

She’d been surprised to feel the cold whispers across her cheek, much different than the warm breeze of the Potter magic. The Black family magic was as old as the Potter magic, but much colder, and clung to her like a lost child returned. She was of the blood; it did not discriminate as long as that held true. The Black magic was temptation and vengeance, it cried out for protection of the family above all. No traitors would be allowed to stand in its midst. 

Stoneshard had been able to tell her much more once the magic had accepted her. Now he was speaking to the Regent of the House of Black and no information would be held from her, including the identity of the Heir. 

Hearing the name of the Heir had been a weight off her shoulders. She’d never believed that Sirius could have done all that they said he had, and now she had proof. 

Arcturus had named Sirius Orion Black as Heir to the House of Black. Magic had accepted Sirius as Heir, and it had not rejected him. Arcturus had known that James had Black blood in his veins, just as she was certain that James had told Sirius about it. If Sirius had betrayed James, it would have been a betrayal of the House of Black, even if James had never been acknowledged as a member of the House. Lord Black knew, and that was what mattered. If Sirius had betrayed them, the Black family magic would have rejected Sirius as Heir. 

If magic had rejected him as Heir, Sirius’ name would not have been listed. In all likelihood, magic would have punished him for his betrayal and he’d likely be a squib, dead in Azkaban before his first year was finished. And because of all this, Dorea knew it was almost impossible for Sirius to have been the Potters’ Secret Keeper. 

Which angered her all the more because it meant that Sirius had been thrown into Azkaban for a crime he hadn’t committed. She’d requested for Stoneshard to poke around into Sirius’ trial record, to see what evidence had been so damming that he’d gone to Azkaban for it. He’d promised quick results and would contact her as soon as he had an answer. 

But the rage is still there. It burns beneath her skin, fueled by the whispers of the Black family magic. It has its place in every step she takes away from Gringotts and every decision she makes. 

She is a Potter in name. But before that she was a Black. She was raised in pain and ignorance, in backstabbing and loyalty. And she remembers, and she will not let it control her.


	2. Whose woods these are I think I know

A perfectly manicured lawn, with a perfectly weeded flower garden. An immaculate white picket fence and a cookie cutter home, identical to the one next to it and the one next to that and the one next to that.

A large walrus and a woman with a long neck and a horse face. A rather rotund child that looks like a pig in a wig.

They’re gathered around the dining table, eating a meal that the horse faced woman did not cook. The walrus man talks loudly enough that his voice carries outside, but not loud enough to make out words. He alternates between stuffing his face and looking fondly and proudly at the pig boy. The pig child eats as much as his father, telling stories with his mouth open and half-chewed food falling out of his mouth.

The walls of the home are lined with photographs: pigs and walruses and horse faces. All formal, all full of pride. It is clear the two adults love their son. It’s a perfectly normal thing, after all. There is no sign of magic, of oddness, of abnormalities.

There is no sign of anyone else.

  

*****

  

_“Madame Potter, Regent of the House of Potter, Regent of the House of Black,_

_Upon investigation of the matter discussed on the 21 st of July, new information has been brought to light._

_A search was conducted for trial records for one Sirius Orion Black, dated the 2 nd of November, 1981, or in the days following. No information has turned up. A more thorough investigation was launched, but trial records have not been found, nor any record of any interrogation being conducted, with or without veritaserum. _

_Articles that ran in the_ Daily Prophet _around the same time period place Peter Pettigrew at the location, accusing Sirius Black of murder and of being the Potters’ Secret Keeper. Witnesses say that Black fired the curse that blew up the street, but we have yet to confirm. Reviewing placement of all individuals involved and where the curse landed, Gringotts believes that it is highly unlikely that Black fired said curse._

_Black was arrested, laughing maniacally, claiming fault for the death of the Potter Lord and Lady. As much as Gringotts has been able to tell, Black went from the street, to a holding cell in the Ministry, to a cell in Azkaban._

_It is our belief that Sirius Orion Black, Heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, was not granted a trial. In the face of such a miscarriage of justice, several options for legal proceedings are available to you…”_

  

*****

 

 It’s late evening when she knocks on the door. After several minutes Dorea knocks again. The door finally swings open, revealing the horse faced woman.

“What do you want?” the woman grouses. Then she takes a good look at who, exactly, is at her door. She looks at Dorea, at her robes, and knows instantly that this is someone from the world she despises. She gets a disgusted look on her face as she slams the door in the older woman’s face.

Or, she tries to.

By this point, Dorea has no patience or sympathy for this pest or her feelings. She has watched the home for three days now, and she is certain that she would be hard pressed to find a family that is more despicable than the Dursley family.

The Black family magic uncoils from her person, rushing forward and stopping the door from closing. Dorea takes it a step further and wills the magic to open the door completely. It complies, and the woman gets an even more horrified look on her face. Dorea delights in her discomfort.

“This is a private discussion. We are going to have it, of that there is no choice. It’s up to you whether we talk out here, for your neighbors to see, or inside your home.”

The pest scowls at Dorea, who is unaffected by such pitiful attempts at intimidation, but opens the door and steps further into the home. She shouts for the walrus and marches towards a sitting room. They pass a stairwell, the cupboard door firmly shut.

The sitting room is spotless. Not one speck of dust or a stain on anything. Every knickknack is perfectly placed. Family photos line the mantle: first day at school, birthdays, holidays, anything and everything that might matter in the life of a pig in a wig. She resists the urge to crack the glass in all the frames.

The walrus marches into the room, demanding to know why she’s there. They were promised no contact with _their kind_ , and they are perfectly normal people who do not have any time for freaks or freakish behavior.

Dorea grins. It is not a happy grin. It is a look that tells all who see it that she has known pain. She has known it, embraced it, and now enjoys causing it. It is a grin that promises misfortune and chaos. It promises terror, and that she’s an expert at causing it. It means she is not a woman to be crossed.

“I’m here for your nephew, Petunia. You will present Harry Potter to me, immediately.” She speaks only to the woman, knowing that being ignored will piss off the brute more than anything. She watches from the corner of her eye as the walrus’ face turns an interesting shade of purple. She can practically see the steam coming from his ears in anger and she relishes in it.

“And why should we? We have no use for your kind; we don’t want you here! We were promised no contact from other freaks once we took in the boy. You will get out of our home and never come back, are we clear?” The horse woman echoes her husband, who looks like he’s about to start foaming at the mouth.

Dorea takes several steps closer to the long-necked pest. She is taller than the younger woman, and Dorea uses ever centimeter to her advantage. She looks down her nose at the pest, standing in the woman’s personal space. She glares down at her.

“You misunderstand, Petunia. This is not a request and you don’t have a choice. I don’t care what you or your obese husband want; it may be hard to believe but not everything is about you. This is about your nephew. You will call your nephew into this room. I will ask him one question. You will do what I say, and then we leave. Now be a good pest and call for him. Unless you have something to say that won’t waste my time?”

Dorea’s voice is steel, daring her to pose a challenge. There is no arguing or negotiating. The pest seems to recognize this and shares a look with the walrus.

“BOY! Get in here RIGHT NOW!” The shout seems to reverberate through home. Two children walk into the room a few minutes later. Dorea dismisses the rotund blonde pig who goes to stand by the walrus. It is the other child that has her attention. She has seen him from a distance, the first time was but an hour ago. Now, seeing him up close, her heart shatters once more.

Wide, emerald green eyes stare at her. The color and shape are unfamiliar to her, but she has seen the look in his eyes all her life. In the eyes of Marius, who was forced to leave the only home he’d ever known because of something that wasn’t his fault, something that didn’t make him less. In Walburga, who was lost before she was ever found. In the eyes of the second child to steal her heart, when he ran away from home and turned up, broken, on her doorstep.

It’s there, every time she looks in the mirror.

His messy black hair is long and unkempt, but the only thing it hides is the lightning scar on his forehead. The pools of green are there for all to see. So is the black, and the blue, and the purple, and the sickly yellow.

_She will never forgive them._

He drowns in clothes that are worn, covered in holes, while the others in the home are well dressed. They are the material proof of his life in this perfect, normal house with its perfect, normal family. He is small, too small. Not delicate or petite but small. _Unhealthy_. Malnourished.

_She will destroy them._

She kneels to be at eye level and gestures him closer. He looks to the walrus, to the horse faced woman, and then to her. He takes one step, eyes flicking to the walrus. He flinches, then takes one more step. Half the distance has been closed.

“Boy!” is the sharp sound that makes Harry jump and take the final few steps until he stands before her.

Emerald meets grey. She smiles gently at him, kindly, and hopes that it is enough for the moment.

“Hello, Harry. My name is Dorea Potter, and I’m your grandmother on your father’s side. Would you like to come live with me?”

Hope lights up his eyes, but he does not answer right away. His gaze searches hers, and he seems to find whatever he was looking for. He nods gently, hesitantly, but it is enough. The pieces of her heart break further, dust in the places that once held shards.

_She will make them pay._

Dorea stands up and faces the pest and the walrus once more.

“That’s that, then. Harry, love, why don’t you go get your things while I settle up here?” He nods quietly and slips from the room as if he was never there.

She pulls out her wand and waves it, feeling the scorn from the two adults in the room. A small stack of papers appears on the coffee table alongside a pen.

“Petunia, sign where the line is red. Dursley, where it’s blue.”

The woman wastes no time in signing on all the pages. Her husband does the same, grumbling not-so-quietly the entire time about freaks and ungratefulness.

With the last signature, the document curls up on itself and disappears into thin air. The man’s face purples even more, if it is possible, at the further displays of freakishness.

Harry walks back into the room, leaving a wide berth as he passes by his cousin. A tattered, plain black rucksack is in his arms. One shoulder strap dangles and brushes the floor. Dorea is not impressed.

She smiles down at him. “Do you have everything, love? We won’t ever be coming back here.”

Harry nods hesitantly and she doesn’t push the issue. Rage builds further under her skin, both family magics calling for justice.

“Well then, lets be off, Harry.” She heads to the front door, Harry and the others behind her. She does not miss that the cupboard door under the stairs now sits open.

They stand on the front step, Dorea and Harry. She uses the family magic to stop them from slamming the door.

“You might want to prepare your documents, Dursley,” Dorea says in an off handed manner. “You can expect an audit of your financial records. You better be able to account for every pound you’ve been given in the past decade for Harry’s care. And if they find even one discrepancy, you will pay back every pound at ten times the interest. Consider this your only warning.”

She uses the family magic to slam the door on the horrid horse woman and her fat walrus husband.

She turns to Harry once more, who looks at her warily. She smiles, trying to put him more at ease. She doesn’t think it works.

“Harry,” she says gently, “we’re going to get out of here the fastest way I know how. I know it’s going to seem very unusual, but I promise to explain everything when we get to Potter Manor. Do you think you could wait that long?”

He hesitates, but he eventually nods.

She smiles back at him. “Thank you. Now, I need you to hold onto me. Put your arms around me like you’re giving me a hug, and I’m going to put my arm around your shoulders. You should hold on tight, and don’t let go. It’s going to feel uncomfortable, like being squeezed through a garden hose, but it doesn’t hurt. And you may want to close your eyes, love.”

She feels him nod as she grabs him and holds him close. He feels bony and much too thin, and she can’t wait to get him home and get him well.

“On the count of three. One, two, three – “

With a pop, the doorstep of number 4 Privet Drive is empty once more.

  

*****

 

“Ma’am? What should I call you?”

“What would you like to call me, love?”

“…”

“Hmm. Well then, how would you feel about calling me Metzen?”

“...okay, Metzen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay everyone, time to learn something (I know, right?)!
> 
> The word mentioned above, Metzen, is pronounced 'mei-chin'. I learned it from a coworker, and this is what her grandkids call her. She called her own grandmother Metzen. I have been told that it is a Flemish word (their family is from Belgium) and that it means 'godmother'.
> 
> I don't speak Flemish, and I have used the spelling that this coworker provided me. I've tried to do research to confirm everything, but haven't found much. If any of you do happen to speak Flemish and I've made a mess of my use of it, please let me know and I will fix it right away.
> 
> Edit: Thanks to StarLightX3 for more accurate information! A more accurate word for godmother would be Meter or meetjen, while grandparents would be Opa or Oma. Metzen could be a weird spelling, an inaccurate translation, or just a variance due to the dialect.
> 
> I will keep using Metzen because I've grown rather fond of it, though.
> 
> Thanks again, StarLightX3!


	3. But I have promises to keep

“Metzen?”

The tiny voice breaks the silence she’d been working in for the past few hours. She puts her quill down, pausing her letter writing to face the now 10-year-old boy.

“Harry? What are you doing up? It’s past your bedtime, love.”

He frowns, shuffling as he stands in his spot in the doorway. He has yet to come too close to her or Nin, the Potter house elf. It has crossed her mind that he stays just out of their reach, as if to avoid being struck. It is one more reason she will make those monsters pay.

“Are you going to send me back to the Dursleys now?” his voice is a little louder, a little firmer. The answer is important to him.

She frowns. What in the world would make him think she would?

“I’m never going to make you go back there, Harry.” She says slowly and gently, trying to reassure the small boy.

His green eyes don’t meet hers. “But I caused trouble.” his voice is whisper quiet, as if reminding her will make her change her mind.

Harry, trouble? No, he wasn’t trouble. He was easily the quietest child that she’d ever met, thought that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. He was too quiet, too pulled into himself. In the days since they had arrived at Potter Manor, he’d slowly been working on coming out of his shell. They still had a long way to go, though. He was always polite when he spoke, and he always tried to help Nin, the Potter house elf. Nin never turned down his help, though she didn’t like the fact that the Little Master was doing work not suitable for a wizard, but she always made it clear that he didn’t have to. He liked to read and draw, and he was generally a well-behaved child.

She thought back to what had happened today. They’d held a small celebration for his birthday, just Harry and Nin and her. The tiny, purple-eyed elf had been happy to have the Little Master home. She’d gone all out today for his first birthday with them: a nice chocolate cake, cookies, and a delicious meal. Nin had even knit him a throw blanket with the Potter crest on it.

Dorea had gotten Harry a few gifts for his birthday, too. She hadn’t gone all out and spoiled him like she wanted to, since she could tell he’d felt awkward enough at his brand-new wardrobe and his new room. She didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but she’d resolved so spoil him more on his next birthday. She’d gotten him books and games, both muggle and wizarding, as well as toys.

Harry had been pleasantly surprised at his gifts and the cake in his honor, or at least she thought he’d been. He’d shyly thanked Nin for the wonderful food and the blanket, causing the elf to smile proudly, before offering that the elf join them for the meal. Nin, normally very reserved, had shed a few tears before she had disappeared, too emotional to stay. He’d thanked Dorea too, shy and uncomfortable as he’d been. She’d though it had been a good day, all things considered.

“What makes you think you cause trouble?” she prodded gently.

Harry chewed on his lip, turning to look at something behind Dorea instead of directly at her before the floodgates opened. “I made Nin cry, even after all the nice stuff she’d done for me. And she made me that blanket and it must have taken a lot of time to make that and I’m not worth the trouble. And you’ve given me so much, and the clothes are all really nice, but I don’t deserve them, I’m fine with Dudley’s castoffs, really! And you’ve already given me a room of my own, and I don’t need any books or toys or anything else. But I’m still causing you all this trouble and making you spend money on me, and I don’t want to cause trouble for you because I’m not worth it. Uncle Vernon said that when freaks cause trouble they have to leave, so that means I have to go back to the Dursleys. I’ve been waiting for you to tell me you’re taking me back, I’ve got my bag packed and everything, so I don’t cause you more trouble. I’m really sorry.”

When he’s finished, he finally meets her eyes. Harry’s emerald eyes are wet with tears, but they don’t fall.

Dorea had thought her heart had finished breaking. She’d thought the pieces were too small now to break further, but she finds that she’s wrong. She’d promised herself, before she knew Harry or anything about the Dursleys, that she would love this boy no matter what he might be like. She’d taken one look at him, through that window, and she’d felt her heart constrict as she’d seen him for the first time.

She was not a mother in the conventional sense, but she’d fallen in love with the boys that had come into her life. Harry was no exception, and she’d fallen in love all over again just upon seeing him. Meeting him had made the feeling that much stronger.

But every time she learns more about his life at the Dursleys, her heart breaks for this boy all over again. It shatters and grinds to dust before her rage builds it back up again, stronger and weaker and angrier than before. She vows again to destroy them in every way possible.

“Come here, love.” She says to him, gesturing him closer. He is hesitant, but he cautiously makes his way towards her. He stops in front of her, his body language screaming nervous and afraid. She reaches for him slowly, so that he can clearly see what she’s doing. She pulls him up to sit on her lap. Her desk chair is not built for two, and he’s almost too big, but she won’t let it stop her. Not when he needs her.

He cautiously leans his head on her shoulder as she puts one arm around his back and the other is around his waist, holding him close. He sits tensely for several moments before relaxing enough that Dorea believes she can continue.

“There’s things you need to understand, Harry. You aren’t trouble. Not for me, or for Nin, or for anyone. We like having you here; we want you here with us. You’re our family, darling, and we want to take care of you and make sure you’re happy. That’s why we want to give you things of your own, things that you need but also things that you’ll like.” She told him gently, her voice soft.

“But I don’t deserve it.” He whispered back.

“You do, Harry. Every child does, no matter what. You deserve a place to be safe and people you can come home too. You are one of the kindest, most polite children that I have ever met. You’re such a good person, Harry, that we want to do things for you. When you’re happy, we’re happy.”

“Even though I made Nin cry?”

“Nin is a house elf, as you know. House elves are some of the kindest beings you’ll ever meet, especially if their family treats them right. But so many people have taken advantage of the elves’ kindness, that elves generally expect to be mistreated, rather than treated nicely. So when they are shown kindness, above what they might be used to, sometimes they get really emotional because they’re so happy. That’s what happened with Nin. She was so happy, and so honored that you wanted to share your birthday meal with her that she couldn’t help the tears. She was happy, love, and touched that you wanted to include her. You did nothing wrong. What you did was very, very good and I’m so proud of you.”

She feels him nod more than she sees it. She gets the feeling that he doesn’t quite believe her, not yet, but she’ll say it however often she needs to until he does.

But there is something else she needs to take care of.

She pulls away enough to be able to look Harry in the eyes. His gaze is less wary, somewhat hopeful, and it makes her heart feel lighter.

“There is one other thing we need to address, Harry.” She can see him swallow, but she continues on, never looking away from him. “I love you, with all my heart and all my soul. And I will never send you away, to the Dursleys or anywhere else. I will never leave you and I will never let anyone take you away, no matter what. You are mine, love, and I’m not going to give you up. Not ever. Do you understand?”

Harry nods again, his eyes wide and full of hope. Tears begin sliding down his cheeks, almost without his notice, before he throws his arms around Dorea’s neck.

She doesn’t know how long she holds him or how long he cries. She doesn’t know if he’s crying because he’s happy or if he’s mourning the life he never got to have. But the tears have been long overdue, and she hopes that things will only get better from here.

  

*****

 

  _“Mr. Lupin,_

_I hope this letter finds you in good health._

_I have recently come into Regency for an Ancient and Most Noble House that has been quiet for far too long. While I am well equipped to handle all legal matters that may arise, as well as the House seat in the Wizengamot, I am not able to balance all of my tasks and pay suitable attention to the Heir._

_He will attend Hogwarts in one year’s time, and I find him woefully underprepared to completely enter the wizarding world. While I can teach him the family business, I find myself lacking the ability to teach him everything that a child of his status should know._

_I have been searching for several months for a proper tutor, and your name was suggested to me. I have been informed that you possess a Mastery in Defense and have a large amount of knowledge about the muggle world. I would request that you tutor the Heir in a variety of wizarding subjects: Potions, Herbology, Defense, and Wizarding Culture. In muggle subjects, I leave it up to your discretion, but would like him to be knowledgeable about Mathematics and Writing. Further subjects would be included into his tutoring schedule during the summer between school years, based upon his academic performance._

_Accommodations are provided should you choose to take the position and meals would also be included. Your expenses would be reimbursed, and you would be provided with a glowing recommendation when your service to the House is complete. Your salary is negotiable and can be discussed upon your arrival. Additionally, Wolfsbane shall be provided to you each month and a secure location has been made available for your use._

_Be aware that I take my Heir’s safety seriously. As such, you will be subject to an Oath of Secrecy to ensure his continued good health._

_Please contact me if you have and further questions. I await your owl at your earliest convenience._

_Sincerely,_

_Madame Metzen_

  

*****

 

The floo flared green before a man in threadbare robes steps out. He takes a quick glance around the room, a look of dawning comprehension taking over his scarred face. His brown eyes meet a pair of grey ones.

The shabbily dressed wizard does not move from in front of the fireplace and Dorea does not move any closer to him.

She doesn’t know if she should smile at him, or laugh, or pretend that the whole situation is not unusual. The last time she’d seen him, he had been a young man who had just graduated Hogwarts. A young man who, despite the war and the difficult relationship with his father, had his whole life ahead of him and the world at his fingertips.

The man in front of her looked like he had carried the world on his shoulders for far too long; he looked like she felt on her worst days. There were more scars on him than she recalled him having, and his hair was a bit thinner and had greyed more than she had thought it would.

Finally, he breaks the silence.

“Mrs. Potter?”

“Hello, Remus. It’s good to see you.” She speaks softly, and the words ring with truth. She really is happy to see him, even if she wished the circumstances had been better.

He frowns at her. “I think you have a lot of explaining to do, ma’am.”

“That I do. You’re interested in the job then, I take it?”

A thoughtful look crosses his face. “There’s only one boy I can think of that you might look after. I’ve failed him once and I won’t do it again. Whatever you might need from me, I’ll do it.”

“I trust you, Remus, to do everything you can to help Harry. It’s come to my attention that many things have not proceeded as they should have, and Harry has suffered as a result. I intend to right as many of these wrongs as I can, hopefully with your help. Any agreement on your part will require an Oath of Secrecy, not only to the House of Potter but also to the House of Black. Is that acceptable?”

“You have my support, though I do hope you’ll tell me what, exactly, I’m getting myself into.”

“After the Oaths, dear.”

Remus nods his acceptance and Dorea moves them into the study. Remus makes his Oaths of Secrecy without hesitation, promising to uphold the secrets of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter and the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black; to not divulge her secrets without permission; and to act in the best interest of the current Heir.

Dorea takes a seat at her desk and gestures for Remus to take the one across from her. She offers him some refreshments, to which he declines, before she begins.

“I’ll tell you everything, but summed up, our goals are currently thus: educate Harry properly and give him the family he deserves; to correct every action that has been taken against him intentionally; to destroy the heathens that had guardianship of him before myself; discover the location of Peter Pettigrew and detain him, should he still be alive; rescue an innocent man from Azkaban; restore the House of Potter; and expose Dumbledore for the despicable man he is.”

Dorea begins telling Remus about everything she knows. About the Dursleys, Gringotts, and Dumbledore. The discussion about Sirius is hard, but it also brings hope to the werewolf who thought he’d lost everyone he’d cared for.

He hasn’t forgiven her, though, not yet. She had left when James and Sirius needed her most, had abandoned them to flee her own grief. He’d called her a coward, quietly and to himself, as he’d picked up the pieces of his two best friends. But she was working to change things, was facing everything that she’d left behind and all that remained. He had to give her credit for that. And if he’d get to see Harry, would get to know the boy who was his nephew in all but blood, he’d gladly hold his tongue and work alongside this woman.

But as Remus Lupin looks at Dorea Potter nee Black and sees the fury and determination in her eyes as she recounts all the known sins against Harry and the House of Potter, he knows that this is not a woman caring for her great-nephew out of obligation. This is a woman who cares deeply about him, a woman who will face Death itself to keep her family safe and to right the wrongs she’d unintentionally allowed to take place.

She is a woman at war, and he will proudly stand beside her in every battle to come. 


	4. The darkest evening of the year

“Do you have a few minutes, Dorea?”

Dorea looks up at the man standing in the doorway. It’s been a few hours since they put Harry to bed, and she’s been pouring over her letters and her plans ever since then. An interruption would be wonderful.

“Of course, Remus. Come, sit.” She gets up and walks over to the small settee that’s on the other side of the study, gesturing for Remus to have a seat next to her.

“What have you been working on?” He asks her once he is seated. Dorea lets him start the conversation elsewhere, knowing that he’ll get to his point when he feels he can.

“I’ve been planning, though I won’t take the seats in the Wizengamot until the September 5th meeting following Harry entering Hogwarts. I want to have all my ducks in a row and figure out how, exactly, I want to accomplish everything on my agenda. After the big reveal, I expect I will be very busy with meetings. Some with Wizengamot members, some with Gringotts, and of course some with the DMLE.”

Remus frowns but nods his understanding. “But that’s some time from now. Surely, you’ve got everything planned out? If I know you, you’ve been thinking about all of this since you came back.”

“Yes, but I need to plan for every eventuality. I need to determine what my goals are for the long term and what order to accomplish them. I need to determine what will stand in the way of getting things done, and how every individual might respond. Do I sacrifice short term benefits for the sake of the long-term goal? Do I destroy my enemies and remove them from play, or simply neuter them and stick with the devil I know? Once I have these answers, I can lay the foundation and construct backup plans for every eventuality. On top of that, there are decisions for House Potter and House Black since both Houses have been dormant for so long.”

Remus nods, unsurprised to hear that Dorea is plotting. But she can tell from the look on his face and how he holds himself that his real reason for coming to speak with her is on the tip of his tongue.

“He calls you ‘Metzen.’”

And there it is.

Dorea does not react, at least physically, but she does sigh internally. She’d known that eventually, Remus would ask her what it all meant. Why Harry didn’t call her Aunt, why he’d sword secrecy to the House of Black in addition to the House of Potter, why she hadn’t immediately gone to the Wizengamot or the DMLE with proof of Sirius’ innocence.

She’s known, ever since she wrote the letter to him almost four months ago, that she would tell him the truth he didn’t know. Dorea knew that he was a good man, despite what his condition might lead you to believe. She knew he was trustworthy, and Oaths of Secrecy certainly provided a guarantee if she hadn’t known originally.

Despite that, though the time had come to tell him the last thing he’d need to know, she finds that it isn’t so easy to let go of the biggest secret she’s ever kept. Charlus, rest his soul, had been by her side when it had first crossed her mind. He’d agreed with her and the necessity of it, even though such an action was considered borderline illegal. She’d only told two people of what she had done: James, who had needed to know, and her cousin, Arcturus, who she had needed approval from. She knew that James had told Sirius, but she didn’t think he had done anything other than hint about the situation to Remus.

“Yes, he does.” Is what she eventually says.

“He doesn’t call you ‘Aunt.’ He calls you ‘Metzen’ which roughly translates to godmother. But you aren’t.”

Because of course, of all the languages that Remus could possibly know, Flemish would be one of them. It’s just her luck.

“Because I’m not only his aunt.” There. It’s a hint, a whisper to compound the knowledge she is certain Remus has been contemplating for several months now. A truth, just deceitful enough that should the conversation end here, no lies have been told. But she knows Remus, too, and she knows he isn’t finished.

“Then what are you to him?”

She looks him in the eyes. Her calm grey gaze meets his brown one, full of curiosity and something else she isn’t quite sure she can name. She doesn’t look away and he doesn’t blink, and both know that the truth is going to come out now, one way or another.

“You must understand that I loved James as if he was my own from the moment he was born. I vowed to do whatever was needed to protect him. His parents died when he was six and he came to live with his uncle and me after that. And less than a year later, we almost lost Charlus. He was in St. Mungo’s for months, and for a time, I was certain that I would be a widow before the day was out.

“He recovered, as you know, but the terror was still there. And for a while, all I could think about was what would happen to James if Charlus died. You must understand, Remus, that when Charlus and I got married, no one was happy. Not even us.

“We didn’t know each other, had never met before our wedding day. It was a political marriage of sorts for each of us, but the public didn’t exactly know that. For a long time, even after we found happiness in each other, the public viewed me as the dark Slytherin girl who had seduced the Potter boy. Surely my plan was to get my hands on the Potter fortune. I was a Black, and a Slytherin, and clearly, I was evil incarnate, and I wished harm on the wealthiest and most beloved light family to be found.

“I knew that if Charlus had died, they would have found some reason to take James away from me; afraid I would corrupt the Heir to the House of Potter and take all of his inheritance for myself. They would have taken him from me on some pretense and I would never see him again. I refused to let that happen. Charlus agreed, and I went to speak with Lord Black. He granted my request and I blood adopted James. James had three biological parents after that: Fleamont, Euphemia, and me.”

She stares at her hands for a long while, lost in memories of days long since passed. She doesn’t see Remus close his eyes in thought. She doesn’t see when he opens them again, looking at her as if she is something he hadn’t considered before.

Remus is an intelligent man. He knows what blood adoption is. A couple agrees to bring a child into their family completely in blood and in name, by Oath and by magic. They share blood between them, and when the ritual is complete, the child has added two more adults to their biological makeup. It is not a replacement, but an addition.

It had been created, many centuries ago, with he idea to give orphans a new home and a new family. A way to keep children safe so that their family line would not end, but also so that they would have a chance for a family that had, presumably, been taken from them. It had the best of intentions behind its creation, but the system was rife with abuses. It was easy, almost sickeningly so, for one family to commit Line Theft against another using this system.

It had been outlawed for almost two centuries, with most of the knowledge on the ritual lost or destroyed. If anyone found out what Dorea had done, even decades after the fact, it would likely mean a stint in Azkaban and a removal of any and all minors within her care.

But she had done it. Because she loved James, with everything in her. Because she would not let them take her family from her, no matter what she might have to do. And Remus knew, instinctively, that she would do the same for Harry if it came down to it. She would face anything for that boy, and so would he.

She comes back to reality when she feels a hand on her shoulder. Brown meets grey.

“For what it’s worth, I think you did the right thing.” His smile is gentle, understanding. “Have you told Harry?”

Dorea nods. She’d had the conversation with Harry several weeks ago. It was difficult, in some ways, but easier in others. He’d seemed to understand the action she had taken and the reasons for it, and the need for secrecy even more so.

Remus leaves not long after that, and Dorea returns to her work.

But she does not forget his easy acceptance of her actions, even if he hasn’t yet worked out all the implications and complications of it just yet. He understood, and that, Dorea knows, is more than she had any right to ask for.

A new idea begins to simmer in the back of her mind. She pulls out a clean piece of parchment from the desk drawer and begins to plan once more.

 

*****

 

She ushers Harry down Gringotts’ front steps, her arm around his shoulders to protect him from the crowd heading into the bank.

Their meeting with Stoneshard had run later than anticipated, requiring Dorea and Harry to face the wizards and witches who came to do business with Gringotts on their lunch break.

They were in disguise, of course, otherwise neither one would have made it past the doors of the bank. Her glamour makes her look older than she is and disguises the high cheekbones and distinctive eye color from her Black ancestry. Harry’s glamour is simpler, changing only his hair and eye color to prevent others from seeing his father. Muggle concealer hides his scar from view.

Neither one looks like a Potter or a Black, which is precisely the point.

The disguises had been discarded once they were safely in Stoneshard’s office. Not only was it insulting to keep them up in a goblin’s presence, it could also interfere with the family magics they were hoping to call. They’d been reapplied when they’d left the back a few hours later.

Though it was only May, Dorea had believed that Harry was ready to claim the Potter Heir ring. He’d studied his family and the duties of being a member, Heir, and Head of an Ancient and Noble House. He’d studied the rituals involved and had studied Goblin culture extensively, as to not offend Stoneshard or any others they may encounter. There was no being more prepared than that.

The ritual had gone smoothly, smoother than Dorea had expected. The Potter family magic had wrapped itself around Harry as soon as he’d donned the Heir ring, as if he was the prodigal son returned. And in a sense, he was. The Potter magic welcomed Harry, embraced him, and showed him such warmth and happiness as it curled about him that Harry had given in to the feeling and laughed happily. She cherished the sound, vowing to do everything in her power to help him laugh more.

As is standard with claiming an Heir ring, an inheritance ritual was performed. Its purpose was to determine if the Heir could claim control of any other Houses. Dorea had been there for James’ ritual, and knew that he had been the Heir to three Houses, including the House of Potter. She wasn’t surprised that Harry’s results turned up the same, though Stoneshard had hemmed and hawed about something before, apparently, deciding it wasn’t relevant now. She would question him later.

From the completion of the Heir ritual, it was a simple matter to unseal the Will. Arrangements had been made for the reading to take place towards the end of October, allowing time for arrangements to be made and for notifications to be sent out. A long wait time, certainly, but it was agreed to be necessary in order keep their secrets for as long as possible.

What had surprised Dorea was how the Black family magic had reacted. The magic, normally so entwined with Dorea that it felt like a second skin, had uncurled from her and twisted towards Harry’s direction. Almost as if it was interested in him, as if it wanted to be called by him, too. It meant nothing now of course, Harry was too young, but it left something else for Dorea to consider and gave her another reason to delve into what her Lord cousin had been into before his death.

They finally pass the last of the bank crowd and head further down the street. She relaxes her grip on Harry now that it isn’t so crowded, though she does keep a hand on him to keep him moving forward. It’s his first trip to the Alley, and she smiles gently as she sees his head turn every which way, trying to see everything all at once.

They are headed to Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor for ice cream. Remus had enchanted Harry with tales of the famous parlor and its goodies, and ever since then Harry has been looking forward to going there. When he’d been told that they were going to Diagon Alley for the first time, Harry had asked to stop at Fortescue’s, his eyes wide and innocent. She hadn’t been able to tell him no.

They are half way to the shop when the commotion begins.

It starts simply, in front of Eeylops Owl Emporium. Dorea and Harry are passing one of the large windows and almost have almost passed the door to the shop when a customer walks through the door and into the shop.

Or, he tries to. A white blur, presumably an owl, flies out the door and into the street, nearly colliding with several patrons and poor passerby in the street.

Patrons begin screaming and ducking in the crowded street, trying to avoid the dive-bombing owl, who is trying to avoid the three shopkeepers that have come out of the shop and are trying to recapture the white owl.

Dorea takes no chances. She holds Harry close with one arm, her wand in the other, trying to maneuver them out of the chaos on the street. People bump into Harry and into her in their attempts to get away, but Dorea only gives them half of her attention.

The other half is focused on the white owl.

The more she watches the owl, the more she’s realized that the bird is searching for something. And if what she’s read about owls and familiars is accurate, it’s searching for some _one_.

Of course, that is the moment that the owl’s gaze lands on Harry.

The bird changes trajectory, gracefully dodging another shopkeeper as she makes her way towards Harry. To her dismay, Harry has been watching the action and is aware that the owl is coming in their direction.

Before Dorea can do anything else, like get Harry away from here, or fire a spell at the bird, Harry steps out of her grasp and offers an arm to the bird. She lands gracefully on his arm, her golden gaze never leaving Harry’s.

She feels a flare of magic, not unlike that of the family magics, but also completely unique. It is not harmful, that she knows, as the Potter and Black magics did not react. The hairs on the back of her neck stand up, but she forces herself to relax. The flare fades quickly, and she frowns upon realizing that at the center of the flare is Harry and the owl.

She watches the owl closely, ready to intervene in a moment’s notice. For now, all the bird does is side step up Harry’s arm, to his shoulder, to nuzzle his head affectionately with its own. She hears the three shopkeepers arguing in the background, but she pays them no mind, watching Harry reach up with his other arm to gently pet the bird, who lets out a soft bark.

The three shop attendants approach carefully. One is an elderly man with an impressive moustache. The other is a young man, barely out of Hogwarts, and the other is a middle-aged woman.

The elderly man is the first to speak.

“Well now, look at the little devil! Right attached to ‘im, she is.” He sounds pleased at the turn of events. Dorea guesses, from the look in his eyes, that he felt the flare of magic and also knows what it means.

Interesting.

The younger man is less amused.

“What should we do? If we try and take her from the kid, she’s going to claw our faces off! Our faces, Donald!” He says in a hiss to the old man, as if Dorea can’t hear him.

“Calm yourself, Zebediah.” The woman’s voice is calm and understanding. “Clearly, the owl has found her own way.” She turns to Harry and Dorea, a gleam in her eye. “Assuming, of course, that you’re interested?”

Dorea frowns at the people in front of her, resisting the urge to smirk. No sense in giving up everything so quickly, after all. “Interested in what, exactly, Madame?”

“In the owl, of course.” Dorea doesn’t need to see the look on the woman’s face to know that she thinks Dorea is stupid, or possibly an easy sale. Or both.

Dorea raises an eyebrow at the woman as she sends the younger man off to watch the shop while they speak. The woman glares at the old man, who doesn’t move an inch, before settling in to do business with Dorea.

“She’s a good owl, a discerning eye on that one. Obviously knows your boy is going places and wants a part of that. Now, I wouldn’t normally let such a beautiful and intelligent bird go so easily, but I’ll let you a deal since she likes that boy of yours so much.”

The other shopkeeper starts talking before the woman can shut him up. “Don’t listen ta her, I’ll tell ya’ straight. That there bird might as well hold the devil ‘imself, she’s that much trouble. Normally a right nasty temper, been tryin’ to get rid o’ ‘er for a couple a years now. Hasn’t liked a single person been through this shop. Till now, that is. If you want ‘er, she’s yours.”

The woman wears murder in her gaze, anger seeping out of her as she rounds on the old man. “Father! Not the time!” She hisses at him before turning back to Dorea with an almost-smile on her face, her eyes twinkling. “What he means is that this gorgeous owl has been sought after by many, wizards and witches alike. They’ve admired her beauty and her intelligence, but none of them have met her standards. Cleary an individual such as your self knows the value of a good owl, and none are more reliable than this one. And for a one-time price of 20 Galleons, she’s yours. At that price, she’s a steal!”

Dorea scoffs at the woman’s audacity, unwilling to hold herself back any longer. “Let me get this straight. You are asking me to pay for an owl that is clearly a familiar and not an ordinary post owl. At least, judging by the flare of magic when the owl and my grandson locked eyes; a clear sign of a bonding of a familiar. Then you have the nerve to ask me to pay for the owl? Last I checked, if a Familiar Bond has been established between a wizard and an animal, shopkeepers relinquish custody of the animal to the wizard since the forming of a Familiar Bond is determined by magic itself and not the wizard. And even if that wasn’t the case, the fair market value for an owl is somewhere around 10 Galleons, 12 if you’re being generous.”

The old man lets out a bark of laughter as the woman’s face reddens. “She got ya’ there, lassie! If an animal is a true familiar, nothin’ and no one can keep ‘em apart. Not wizards, not money, not law. The little devil has found ‘er boy, and we ain’t gonna stand in the way o’ that. Couldn’t if we wanted to.”

The old man turns and moves closer to Dorea and Harry as the woman turns on her heel and marches back to the shop.

“I owe ya’ an apology, I do. Esther’s got a head for finance, but not much else. But you showed ‘er what’s what, ya’ did. An’ on an obscure law, to boot!” He grins happily at them before he lowers a bit to meet Harry’s eyes.

“Now, ya’ better listen, laddie. That there owl is a good, faithful lass. She’s gonna look after you and yours; ya’ won’t find no bird more loyal than that one. Protective, too. Look after ‘er and she’ll look after you. Hear me, laddie?”

“Yes, sir.” Harry’s voice is certain as he grins at the old man and then his new friend. The owl barks happily, nuzzling her head against Harry’s.

As the old man hobbles back into the shop, Harry turns to look at Dorea.

“Gran?” He asks, playing along with their disguises for the day. “What was that all about?”

“It means, love, that you’ve got yourself an owl. She’s not just a post owl, though; she’s a true familiar”

“But what does that mean?”

“It means that she was always meant to form a bond with you, magic itself decided it was meant to be. She’ll be stronger and smarter than any other owl you’ll meet. It’s very rare for a wizard to find a true familiar, especially so young. My guess is that she sensed your magical signature from inside the shop and escaped so she could find you before we left the Alley.”

A grin slowly works its way onto Harry’s face, happiness radiating from every fiber of his being. “She’s the prettiest owl, too.” He says firmly, and the snowy owl perched on his shoulders gives a bark of delight, as if echoing his sentiment.

What has she gotten herself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My headcanon: Hedwig was always meant to be with Harry. You hurt Harry, Hedwig will hurt you.


	5. The woods are lovely, dark and deep

They floo to Platform 9 ¾ rather than Apparate there. It’s more comfortable to floo, at least for Harry, who tends to get sick after being taken somewhere by side-along Apparition. They’ve come early, far too early for there to be any crowd on the platform.

Dorea regrets that she finds it necessary to hide herself until the Wizengamot meeting in a few days, as she would rather wave Harry off on his way to Hogwarts. But the longer she can hide her own identity and keep secret her return, the better it will be for her in the long run. Especially if she can make her reveal at the Wizengamot meeting; she’s certain that more than one jaw will drop, and which ones do is a very interesting question. She’s grateful, though, that Remus will be staying to wave him off with the other parents and guardians.

Dorea finds it hard to believe that it’s been almost 14 months since she received that letter, that she’d never known the boy before that. It feels like it’s been so much longer. It still upsets her that she missed so much of not only her son’s life, but Harry’s life as well, simply because she felt the need to run from her problems instead of facing them. She’s trying, though, to be there for Harry now and witness every milestone.

Harry doesn’t seem to mind getting on the train an entire hour and a half before it’s supposed to leave. Dorea needed to keep her return quiet, but she’d still wanted to see Harry board the train. Harry had a dislike for large crowds, especially ones from the wizarding world who knew who he was. She figured boarding early to avoid crowds was okay with him.

For now, it’s just her and Harry on the platform. Remus will be arriving in about twenty minutes to wait with Harry and watch over him, but Dorea can’t risk being on the platform any longer than necessary. Even if she’d gone in disguise, under a glamour charm perhaps, someone was sure to question who she was and her right to be with the Boy-Who-Lived. She could not have any questions, not yet, even if it goes against all of her instincts to leave him alone, even if for only ten minutes.

She helps Harry onto the train, helping him get his trunk up the steps thanks to a featherlight charm. They find an empty compartment near the middle of the train and Dorea once again uses magic to get the trunk tucked away where it belongs. Hedwig’s cage is brought in and stored near the trunk as the owl inside watches them both.

And then it’s time.

She looks at Harry, the boy she has grown to love ever since she first met him. He was such a quiet, timid boy. He looked like he would be spooked at his own shadow. And after learning how his deplorable relatives had treated him, she can’t blame him for how scared he was.

But she’s been able to watch first hand as this boy, her grandson, blossomed into the young man he is today. He stands straight, though he likely isn’t as tall as some of his other peers. His posture shows confidence and strength. His eyes, though, those are what truly changed. No longer is emerald tainted by fear and uncertainty. Shadows sometimes lurk behind the emerald eyes, but less and less often as the days pass.

He’d taken to his studies like a fish to water, once he understood that he wouldn’t be punished for doing well. He had absorbed everything she and Remus had taught him, both muggle and magical, and had enjoyed it.

In front of her stands an eleven-year-old boy, ready to go to Hogwarts and learn all that he can. And for a moment, just one single moment, she sees not Harry, but a different eleven-year-old boy with dark hair and round glasses. The likeness is uncanny, except for the green eyes that Harry sports and the almost lackadaisical smile on the other boy’s face.

The moment passes, though, and Harry’s own smile shines through. Smaller, but no longer hesitant and no longer anxious as it once was. She sees that his eyes now, today, in this compartment, are clear and bright. They hold excitement, yes, but also a nervousness that is normal for the situation.

She stands with her back to the door of the compartment. Harry stands across from her. “You’ve got everything, then?”

Harry nods before answering. “I packed everything last night. Nin also checked my trunk this morning.”

“Alright, then. It seems like you’re ready then. I have to leave soon, but Remus should be here shortly. He’ll be on the platform to wave you off.”

“I know, Metzen. We talked about it.”

Dorea sighs. “You’re right, love, and I know that. I just don’t want either of us to forget anything important. And speaking of that, what are you supposed to remember?”

His brow furrows in confusion before his expression clears. “Make some friends, do my best, and have fun.”  
  
Dorea smiles at him. “And what else?”

Harry looks confused for several moments, unsure of what she might mean.

She kneels so she’s more at his eye level. She takes his face in her hands, making sure that he’s looking at her because the last thing he should remember is the most important. It’s something that she and Remus have told him often, over the past year. He doesn’t always believe it, but she’ll never stop telling him until he does.

“Remember that no matter what House you’re in, or what friends you make, or what grades you get, Remus and I love you. There is nothing you could ever do that would make us love you less. And if you need me or your Uncle Moony, just say the word and we’ll be there, no matter what. Understand?”

She has enough time to notice that Harry’s eyes look as teary as hers feel before he throws himself at her, his arms around her neck in a fierce hug. She hugs him back just as hard, knowing that a day will come when he’ll decide he’s too grown up to hug her. She hopes the day never comes.

“I love you, Metzen.” He whispers into her hair. She grips him tighter.

“I love you too, Harry. Forever and always.”

She lets go when he pulls away, standing up once she feels she can. Harry wipes his eyes with his hands and Dorea pretends not to notice.

“Don’t forget to write to us at least once a week. We want to hear from you, even if you don’t have a lot to say. Okay?”

“Okay,” he says simply, a shy smile on his face.

She looks from Harry and then at his familiar, the owl, Hedwig. “Look after him, won’t you?”

Hedwig makes a sound that seems to say, “Of course I will, how dare you think I wouldn’t!”

It’s enough to make Dorea smile and for Harry to chuckle before he turns to her cage and reaches through the bars, stroking her feathers in affection.

“Then I guess it’s time for me to go. Have a good time, love, and I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

She turns and leaves the compartment, moving down the hall and getting off the train. She sees a muggle couple on the platform, a bushy haired girl with them, pushing a trolley. She pays them no further attention as she moves towards the Apparition point.

She looks back before she leaves and sees Harry standing at the window. He waves to her, a smile on his face. She waves back at him, watching as his face moves away from the window.

She Apparates back to Potter Manor, knowing that he’s going to be okay at Hogwarts.

He’s not alone anymore. He’s got people who know him and love him, who would move mountains to keep him happy and safe. He has a family now, however small and broken it might be. He’s going to make friends and have fun, growing up and learning with his classmates.

He isn’t the same boy she met a year ago. He’s stronger, more confident. He knows he has value now, even if he doesn’t realize how much his family cares for him. He’s got a good head on his shoulders and a solid educational foundation, including subjects both magical and muggle. He knows his status as an Heir and what is expected of him because of it.

She and Remus have done all they can for him. They’ve taught him, and loved him, and now it’s up to Harry.

And as she arrives back in the study at Potter Manor, Dorea can’t help but smile.

She knows he’s going to be alright.

She’ll make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have another chapter because it's super short.
> 
> Thank you everyone for reading and commenting, and to everyone who left kudos! Thanks for sticking it out this far, your support for this story is incredible!
> 
> The third installment is still a long time coming, unfortunately, but I'm trying to get it done ASAP. So far, it's looking to be at least twice as long as this one, and will cover through first year.
> 
> As always, if you have any questions please let me know and I'll do my best to answer. I love to hear your thoughts about this story and where you think it might be headed.
> 
> And thanks to Mama Phoenix, who has beta read this story for me even though she has very little knowledge of Harry Potter. You're the best!
> 
> Thanks again, everyone! And have a Happy New Year!


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